Socrates ghost must haunt me now,Notorious death has let him go,He comes to me with a clumsy bow,Saying in his disused voice,That I do not know I do not know,The mechanical whims of appetiteAre all that I have of conscious choice,The butterfly caged in eclectic lightIs my only day in the world's great night,Love is not love, it is a childSucking his thumb and biting his lip,But grasp it all, there may be more!From the topless sky to the bottomless floorWith the heavy head and the fingertip:All is not blind, obscene, and poor.Socrates stands by me stockstill,Teaching hope to my flickering will,Pointing to the sky's inexorable blue---Old Noumenon, come true, come true!